


Only Us

by UlisaBarbic



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Being Lost, F/M, Family Feels, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Lost Love, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romance, goku loves chichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlisaBarbic/pseuds/UlisaBarbic
Summary: When Goku dies, ChiChi drowns
Relationships: Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52





	Only Us

“Let’s not worry about nothin’ else right now, Kay? Only us.”

ChiChi’s breath caught in her throat. Oh, the times she had said that. Goku had said it so often and before long she started to mimic him and even now...her children would sometimes echo it, especially if there was emotional pain to be dealt with.

Into her letters that phrase would go, in a mild imitation of the warmth it once had.

The letters just grew over time.

ChiChi had started it as a means of coping. As a means of feeling like she was not alone, feeling like it was just another of Goku’s odd training trips. She told lies to herself. That she would send them “once he sends me a sign of where he’s at.” Writing them made her feel like she could linger in that denial, at least at first. Even that lost its power over the years but she could not stop the pen.

The letters began to gather dust, just sitting on her nightstand table. She began to divide them from one pile into two then into three to keep them from toppling over.Early in her grief, she’d fall asleep to them in her sight. Thrashing in her sleep one night had led to her arm careening into them, sending the papers fluttering all over the room.

Jumping up, she’d tripped over her own feet and hit the ground with purpose. 

“No! No! No!”

They were just letters but not to her. They were her connection, her link to Goku even if she knew he would never read them. They were her means to pretend, to linger in a dying hope. If they were lost, or blew out the window or...

Her crying brought Gohan into the room, alarmed and in pain himself—his dreams had been full of anguish for several weeks. She didn’t remember what she said (surprised she could speak much at all, amid her sobbing) but she clawed after the letters, petrified that they would vanish from her sight. Gohan stood there, rightly distressed no doubt at seeing his strong mother very nearly in a breakdown but as was his way, he just started to help her collect the papers and even brought her a small lid and box from storage. Even tried to hide the shock and fear from his face and the tears from his eyes.

ChiChi was ashamed to admit that, in that moment, her thoughts had only been on her Goku’s letters and she’d not given thought to her son’s pain. All she’d thought on were the letters. Save the letters.

ChiChi went through them, one by one, putting them in order. Stack upon stack upon stack and only when she was satisfied that all were present did she feel content to put the box by the bedside. By the time she felt grounded enough to look for her son and offer him some comfort, he’d gone.

And despite herself, she hadn’t the strength to follow him.

It got better, as all pain does. They became more beacons of memory than tangible hurt. Occasionally, over the years, she would open them up and slip pictures into them but she never threw them out. She never stopped writing them.

The first few were pain filled, anger filled. Screaming in ink form more than anything if one was to be frank. Accusations. Threats even. For a while, she ended each letter with “if you’d not died, I would kill you myself for doing this to me!” Selfish maybe but the hurting from lost love was never known to be righteous. Burn, cut, ache, yes but never righteous or pretty.

Over time, the letters became more journal entries than anything. Telling Goku about his sons, about Goten, about Gohan’s success, about her hobbies, about the changes in the mountain. She wasn’t sure when but Gohan began to bring her small paintings he did or sketches and into the box they would go. When Goten started to fingerpaint or color, those would come to. She kept making birthday and holiday gifts and into the box they would go. It became the last lingering sign. A little routine of them clinging to fading hope that just maybe life might return back. Back to before, back to how it was. Back to whole.

It helped ease the burn in ChiChi’s chest, right over her heart. Focusing on the neatness of the box, the order of the pictures, the folding of the letters, that each boy had equal representation—it was something to occupy her mind and give her center. Give her a means to remember but not always cry and mourn.

But the burn remained.

The place at the table being empty gradually became more normal to see but it never stopped hurting. Yet they learned to move on, to push past it. ChiChi found it was easier once Goten was old enough to eat table food and keep up with his brother. Despite the work, being able to cook like she was still expecting Goku at any moment eased the pain. Even though she wasn’t putting a plate at that familiar seat, she could fool her mind with the amount of food she made. A silly thing maybe but she took what little comforts she could.

Gohan, despite everything, helped where he could. He would hunt, fish and even attempted to help cook in the days right after Goten’s birth. Though, attempt was truly the correct word for it. For all her eldest’s skills,the inside stove was not one of them. An outside fire was a different story but inside? So much like his father that way.

So...so much like his father..

She smiled in memory. Of the poor boy, smothering the fire on the stove as his baby brother in his small cradle nearby seemed to laugh and coo. When she’d made her way over, Gohan had almost been in tears, covered in soot.

“I have to provide now, Mom. You’re supposed to be resting. You gave me my brother and...”

Her poor Gohan. Naturally, she’d soothed him, corrected his faulty belief that he had to be an adult now and despite them not being able to afford it, she’d ordered dinner that night. How could she do otherwise? Her son was trying so hard and she knew he laid awake at night and sobbed for his father. She didn’t always hear him but she didn’t need to. His face always gave it away. So, much as she felt it unhealthy and not financially sound, they’d wallowed in fried foods that night. 

Her letter from that date was particularly painful.

It was an alien feeling. Before, if Goku was gone, yes, it hurt and she felt sad but this was different. Waiting for him to come home had always been anticipation, sadness but also hope. 

That was the difference. Their home had lost its hope. Everyone gave her the practiced responses, the words meant to bring comfort but failed miserably. ‘He’s not really gone if you remember him, you know.’

Bull. Shit.

Oh, if it was true! Oh how she’d prayed for it to be true. Yes, yes, she saw so much of her husband in her sons. She saw his lessons reflected in Gohan’s heart, she saw his hard work engraved into the home he had built for her. Saw his laugh in Goten’s innocence.

She loved her sons but she loved them for being them. They were reflections of her husband, the fruits of his labor but they were not him. 

HE wasn’t here: 

“Doesn’t feel like home anymore, does it?”

Gohan’s question to her when Goten had just turned one caught her off guard. Amid the chilling cold outside, yet no snow, that question felt more icy than anything else.

“Not like a home? Sweetie, what are you talking about?” Bouncing Goten on her knees, she countered. “It’s a different feeling but—“

“It’s not like home anymore and it’s my fault. It’s my fault that Dad’s gone.”

“Now, don’t you—“

“It’s true, Mom!” Gohan let his voice quiver and he sounded so young, and lost. “If I hadn’t dicked around—“

“Gohan! Language!”

“—then Dad would still be here! It’s my fault Goten hasta have a birthday and holiday without a father. A lifetime without a father and why can’t you hate me for it?!” He turned to her, face caked with tears and the kind of pain that had no physical description. It was one you felt. 

ChiChi felt her heart ache, again. “Gohan, baby, I don’t hate you. Neither does your father or your brother—“

“You should!” He let his head drop to his chest. “You all should. If I was gone but not Dad then—“

“Then it would STILL not feel like a home.” ChiChi kept her tone level. “Because whenever someone you love isn’t here, it won’t feel right!” Her calm demeanor collapsed at the end. How could her Gohan ponder that switching places would have made this better?! Losing someone you loved would always and forever hurt.

Ceasing her shouting as the baby on her knees cried out in protest, ChiChi didn’t try running after her oldest as he went outside. 

That had become Gohan’s sanctuary. The mountain was one place where he could feel his father’s presence and not be burdened by the what-ifs. She wasn’t sure what it was about it but when the suffocating pain of the house became too much, Gohan would retreat to the wood.

He tried so hard. He truly did. She wanted to reassure him, she wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to do this. 

Then that night...

She’d not meant to drop her plate and take off from the table, tears making her nearly blind. It hadn’t been her intention at all! After all, they were trying the first dish Goten had helped her cook (well, much as a three year old could help) but then...Goten had laughed, then Gohan had laughed and put his hands behind his head and by everything, it was too much!

By the time she made it to her bedroom—it used to be THEIR bedroom—she just collapsed on the sheets and let her tears come. She’d not really cried since the day Gohan came home alone. She’d been so focused on her children that she just couldn’t. Or she wouldn’t.But now, hearing that laugh. 

It was easy with Goten. He still had the innocent child giggle, the youth that made him sound like his father and yet not. But Gohan...his voice was starting to change. It had been happening for a while. 

Goten’sreflection of his father was impossible to miss. His grin, his eyes, the very way that he marveled at everything. It both hurt and healed. ChiChi had braced herself, known that he would forever carry her Goku’s spirit and look. 

But hearing a deep voice, cracking as it was, coming from her eldest who still sported that hair cut Goku had given him in the Time Chamber...her heart could not bear it. She had to get away. She had to. She could take only so much! Every day, she awoke and longed for her husband. Every day, she thought about what he would have been doing or what he would have said and SEEING it right in front of her...

Crying into the mattress gave her some relief, if only brief. She was beginning to think that such relief only came from exhaustion instead of anything else. Occasionally, she feel a pinch of relief, as if everything that was bottled up had finally been unleashed in a rush that left her dizzy. This time though, it took everything she had to rise up again. 

She loved her sons, loved them so much that it hurt but that didn’t mean that her love for Goku could not leave her empty. That his absence didn’t give her days and nights where just lingering in bed was the most tempting thing. Where it seemed far less painful to just wallow.

No, though. Her sons still needed her. She still needed them. So, swallowing her remaining tears in huge gulps and splashing water on her face, she went back down to the kitchen and yelled aloud.

“Son Gohan! What are you doing?!”

A reasonable question indeed since he was sitting over the sink and making cuts into his hair. A lot of it had already drifted into the sink and he hardly looked done. He did turn at her voice and Goten, sitting on the counter, glanced between the two, thumb in his mouth. “He fix it, Mommy.”

“Fix....it?”

Goten’s nod made it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Made you sad. So he fix it.”

Oh, by all the... “Gohan? Tell me your brother’s confused. You...love that hairstyle.”

She knew he did. Considered it to be his father’s last gift to him. He talked all time that it was nice to have that memory every morning. Yet, here he was, head hung, chomping away at the strands like some mad butcher. 

“I do.” The teen finally said, putting down the scissors and turning to look at her, his cheeks wet. Oh, the mess his hair was. “But you’re here, Mom. Dad’s not...and...and if me lookin’ and soundin’ so much like Dad makes you sad then I’ll fix it! I can’t fix my voice but my hair...”

Throat caught, she pulled him into a tight hug. Of course, of course her Gohan would consider something so silly and yet so kind. “Gohan, I love you. You lookin’ like your father is a gift!”

“But it makes you sad.” The voice left no room for argument. “Maybe it didn’t when I was younger but ever since I’ve been gettin’ taller and this stupid voice...I see it. I don’t want you sad. Not...not if I can do something about it!”

“Gohan...I don’t want you givin’ somethin’ important like that up for me—“

“Well, too late.” He pointed out the obvious and smiled. A sad one yet happy at the same time. Relieved maybe? Glad he felt like he was doing something to help how much she hurt and damn it all, it WAS easier to look at him and hear him and if that made her just the most selfish woman alive...

“C’mon,” she finally said. “Let me even it out so you don’t look like you were struck by lightning.”

Her boys were so good to her. No matter what was happening, they worked so hard. Goten always with smiles and flowers and animals in his pockets and Gohan with such a sense of self sacrifice that it drove her crazy. She appreciated it but why couldn’t he let himself be a child? Had he ever really done that?

Maybe that was why she never gave chase if he felt the need to dart to the mountainside for his little sanctuary.

She wished that she had as easy a sanctuary but everywhere she went reminded her of her Goku. Every speck of the house, every outside spot, every draw of her breath. As much joy as she received from both her children—and they legitimately were what kept her going most days—the pain never went away.

Someone, and she could not recall who now, had told her that grief was like drowning and she’d never heard something so accurate. News of her husband’s death and that he would not he coming home had felt like her entire world had fallen beneath her and she was adrift in a cruel ocean that would bombard her with memories. Each wave felt like being drowned alive. She’d not even really heard or saw Gohan for a good ten minutes after he told her. She’d just been lost amid a sea of pain that was unrelenting in its currents.

They did start to come further apart but the pain never stopped. Each memory, each anniversary, even though she could now smile and remember the warmth in them, the pain never went away. She would smile, enjoy the joy and brace herself for the pain. 

She’d learned to walk in glass but smile at the warm sun.

Her dreams, she thought might provide her some relief. In some ways, from a certain viewpoint, they did. Amid the fluid flowing world of emotion and memories, she would see him again.

His warm smile and she would run for him and throw her arms around him. He would let her but it was a pale imitation. Even with her memories powering it, it lacked the warmth of the real Goku. Not cold but...well, it was hard to describe. Her Goku nearly pulsed with light but this memory-Goku never did.

And he would always fade before she could kiss him. 

That was the cruelty of dreams. Her memories gave her so much material and yet what she desired most—to feel his kiss, feel his ki, lose herself in his scent—was still beyond her grasp. She must have done something horrible in her life, she decided, to have such a cruel torment. What, she was not sure but surely...

And if she was not sure before then this battle with Buu had all but proven it. Her Goku had been granted one day back. One day...one day to relish in his presence again and hope it would hold in her heart until she could join him again.

Then Buu. And Gohan.And Goten. And...

How long had she truly gotten with Goku? An hour? Longer? Less? Whatever it was, it was not enough but then again, would it ever be enough? Truly? 

No. It would always leave her longing. Even when she’d seen him again...just as she remembered him, that weight and burn in her chest remained because he would be gone again. It was like her heart didn’t dare let her forget.

Yet, here they stood, scattered about the Lookout and she’d felt his ki. Felt his call for help and if Goku would have let her, she’d have given every last speck of her energy for whatever he needed. But her Goku would never take that much. 

And once again, Goku assured they all emerged, safe. Alive. The world revived and that horrible Buu gone and her boys. Her beautiful babies were alive. Always Goku’s gift to her.

“Mommy?”

So lost amid her thoughts, her memories and that pulsing pain that followed her everywhere, she’d nearly lost track of everything. Looking now, she knelt and hugged the questioning boy tight as she dared. “Oh, Goten..,”

He returned her embrace though she was sure that he had that adorable baffled look on his face. But she didn’t care. Let him be baffled. He was alive.

“Mommy, are you okay?”

Finally pulling away, she stood, looking down at him, tears rolling down her face. “Mommy’s fine, Goten. I’m just..I’m so glad you and Gohan are okay!” Turning to her eldest, she jumped up, wrapped her arms around his neck “I was afraid I’d never...” she didn’t finish. 

Couldn’t finish.

Would not finish.

When Goku said Gohan was...when they’d thought he was...

If her heart had been broken before, that news had eviscerated it. She’d lost sense of time, meaning, space...

No! No, thinking on that now! No thinking on all this pain and grief and anguish. 

“Mom,” her son’s voice was full of that soft reassurance. “We’re all okay. Promise.”

She slid down from his grip (when did he get so tall that she had to leap at him) and rubbed her eyes. “I know.” Yes, her sons were alive. Their friends were alive. She was alive. They were all okay.

Her heart all but stopped when that familiar energy suddenly flooded the Lookout. Turning, almost tripping over her feet, her eyes fell on him before the voice reached her ears.

“Hey, guys!”

Goku.

Her Goku.

But...wasn’t his time on earth up? Didn’t he have to stay in Other World? Wasn’t he...

Halfway to him, Goten and Gohan just barely ahead of her, she decided she didn’t care. If Baba was letting him linger or had lost track of him well, that was not her problem. She would take every damn moment!

Her heart pain fluttered.

Yes, this was right. This was...seeing Gohan all but leaning over him and Goten squealing Daddy and...oh, Goku. Oh, her dear Goku. But why were they taunting her? Why...she would take it gladly but when it was over—

“Hey, and guess what? Old Kai granted me a life so I’m not dead anymore.”

...what?

Hope, a rather odd emotion that she’d not felt in abundance for a while suddenly welled in her chest. He was...alive? Truly? This was not one of her taunting dreams?

Her eyes darted upward, over his head.

No halo.

She stepped forward. Her hands shook. Her knees trembled. “Are you...are you serious?” He looked at her and oh, to see those eyes again. Feel the care and compassion in them. It hit her like a punch to the face. “Are we really going all live together—me, Gohan, Goten and you—as a family of four in our little house?!”

That little house that had aged and grown but never forgotten. The house that had seven years of memories to be relayed. The rooms that needed the touch of Son Goku to make them...more alive. To make them real. 

To make them home.

To make IT a home.

“That’s what I had in mind.If you think you can put up with me.” His eyes softened, a look she knew and had memorized. “Can’t wait to taste your home cooking again, ChiChi!”

Her hands grasped his forearms. His warm forearms. Blood pulsed through his veins and she felt them against her fingers. The muscles that rippled through every inch of him responded to her touch, as if...no. 

He did know her. His touch remembered hers.

It was true. It was true.

Tears cut from her throat in a strong flow and it took all her composure to bury her face into his chest. 

His smell. His arms around hers. That nervous laughter of his that made his chest rumble. The subtle shift from left to right foot.

Oh, he was alive!

“I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!” When had she started to shout? It couldn’t have been that long ago. And here? With everyone but... “I used to dream and dream and dream about it but I never thought it would actually come true! You’re finally gonna come home!”

When did she start shaking? Trembling really. Feet quivering like she would collapse at any moment and what was stopping her? Her world had been thrust into chaos but the kind of chaos where you nearly did not dare want to engage it because what if it was wrong? What if it wasn’t true? What if...

But her Goku was here. Holding her. No halo. Just his warm presence, that ever present light that her spirit longed for and yet had never dared hope to find again. It was an echoing feeling, right in her chest, over the heart, like looking for something that was not there yet should not have been there but you knew it HAD been...

It took her a moment, climaxed when Goku gently lifted her chin, to realize what it was.

Sometimes, when one has been in pain for so long, you don’t know what to do when it finally stops. 

That was it. That pain, that weight, that burning, that had settled in her heart since that fateful day seven years ago, was gone. 

She felt light, alive and truly...happy...whole for the first time in seven years.

“So much to tell you.” She finally said. “So much to show you. So much to catch you up on, Goku.” She choked again, eyes so wet that she couldn’t see his face anymore.

His hands caressed her cheeks, a gentleness that very few ever saw from him. “Let’s not worry about nothin’ else right now, Kay?”

Then, smooth as if he’d just done it that morning, his lips were on hers. 

Smooth, fire in her heart, an energy that could only be described as liquid ki, pulsed her body. Her spirit danced. Her lips rejoiced. Her heart pounded and all she could fathom as the world around them seemed so distant was that perhaps her dreams had been right to deny her this. They would have come up wanting. 

When he parted, just slightly, she caught his face with her own trembling hands and pulled him down for another kiss, the desire of a woman who had been drowned for seven years and now had air within her grasp again shining in her eyes.

“Only us.”

“Only us, Chi.”


End file.
